more to come perhaps

fascinating people i know

aries sun x cancer moon

i know two people with this combination and they are both very direct and not scared to confront a problem. very easy to get along with, they like to cater to your needs. gets attached to people very easily but try not to show it as much. deeply passionate and sentimental.

libra sun x scorpio moon

just wants to please everyone and wants everyone to be happy. feels deeply and very passionate about the things they love. has an eye for beauty. humorous and easy-going. always tries to cater to you. big heart willing to share love to everyone. has a seemingly large amount of layers, a soft aura but an intense core.

scorpio sun x cancer moon

very good at keeping a conversation. cynical humor. tough mask but sensitive sweetheart underneath. will be protective and possessive over you, cares deeply and isn’t afraid to say/do so even if they don’t know if the feeling will be reciprocated. trust is very important to them and they are loyal and committed. remembers a lot about you. 

capricorn sun x aquarius moon

very misunderstood. the hardest worker and highly ambitious. opinionated and stubborn, sticks to their morals. loves to help and educate everyone around them. believes in progressing forward together. a loyal, laid-back friend you can just chill with. 

pisces sun x pisces moon

biggest sweethearts. art lover. photography, books, music, paintings, etc all touch them very deeply. love hard and easily. agreeable and hard to dislike. wanderlusts and always stuck in a beautiful daydream. very pleasing to listen to. will always be by your side and is quick to forgive. 

Inspector - Tommy Shelby

Hey, can u do a tommy fic where y/n and Tommy are together. But y/n has to flirt with Cambell to get info and Tommy gets jealous when Cambell brags to him

Inspector - Tommy Shelby

The first time you heard Inspector Campbell’s name was not from Tommy. Arthur was talking to John about a new Inspector in town, a man who had hunted IRA members in Belfast and was now being dropped into Birmingham by Winston Churchill.  

The second time you heard of him was when he came waltzing through the doors of the Garrison, not seeming to care that the facility was home to Blinders and their allies. You were behind the counter, getting yourself a glass of brandy because Harry was swamped with orders.  

“That’s inspector Campbell,” Harry whispered, walking passed you.  

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apparently rough-sketching scenes from disney aus is my ~thing now, so here’s a snapshot of cinderella, based on the 2015 movie. maybe this will become a series, who knows!

(with proper capitalization for reading ease bc this got wayyy longer than i meant for it to, whoops)


The first time Isak meets the prince, he doesn’t know he’s meeting the prince.

This is probably for the better, seeing as he doesn’t so much meet the prince as nearly run the prince down with his horse. Which is mostly Isak’s fault, since he isn’t watching where he is riding as well as he should be, but there are—reasons, if he were pressed to give them. The morning had been crueler than usual and the ride to the market had been an all-too-appealing promise of escape, even just temporarily. And so Isak had left the breakfast dishes still dripping dry and bolted as fast as he was able, gratefully giving his thoughts and tears to the wind and trusting the horse to guide them both clear.

Maybe not the safest plan, but it has worked fairly well, up until he almost runs into another rider. It happens so quickly—a startled shout, the high cry of another horse, a blur of color suddenly veering to his left—that Isak has little time to do anything but shout “Sorry!” over his shoulder and hope the wind carries it back. He thinks that will be it, until he registers a voice calling behind him, and then a second rhythm of hoofbeats pounding into the forest floor and catching him up.

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It’s Okay, It’s Okay

I was feeling…well, I broke down the other day and it got worse when I realized the one person who I wanted to notice…didn’t. But others did. And that got me more emotional. But I’m better now, and I’m sorry to the people I did worry, who did notice me.

So thank you @recklesssketches @the-wickedness-that-is-zai

Summary: Sometimes Felix disappears without a word, and Bridgette’s the only one who notices.

.

No one really paid attention to Felix in the first place, so it was easy for him to skip classes, avoid going home.

His teachers missed his name during attendance, usually marked him present when they catch it later because “hey, that Agreste kid was there; he’s just quiet, is all” and he got high grades so who really cared what he did?

His father usually left reminders via email for him if something came up, too busy with his own work to check on him personally. The staff knew he didn’t eat much so it was no surprise if the meals they made were left untouched by the door of his room.

Honestly, Felix could disappear from the face of the earth completely and no one would notice.

Well, except for her. She noticed everything about him.

Bridgette remembered it was that time again; early spring when the skies were clear but weather still cool and windy. It was the same weather years ago, when she had learned her one and only friend had moved away without a single warning.

He disappeared every year, around this time, she learned. No one really noticed until she had asked a classmate the first year after seeing him again.

She figured it had something to do with his mom.

Bridgette knew she shouldn’t worry; he did this regularly and always returned, safe and sound, like nothing had ever happened. But the point was that she was worried, and she seemed to be the only one who was.

When was the last time someone really worried about him? Really noticed him? Perhaps there had been more, but they had all come and gone, and he thought he could disappear like usual.

But he forgot about his girlfriend.

Bridgette climbed up the rose trellis, just like had had shown her, and leaped over the wall, landing with a soft thud on the grass.

She let her feet lead her, and memory nudged her along the paths that he had brought her through.

“This had been our secret gateway, in a way.”

“You’re the first person, aside from me, to come here in a long time…”

“I think she would have liked me showing you this place.”

“I think…my mother would have liked you, Bridgette.”

Bridgette smiled softly as she sat down under the peach tree, reaching for his hand.

Felix shuddered at her touch, as if he hadn’t even noticed her approaching, and he immediately leaned his head against her shoulder.

“It’s okay to miss her, Felix,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “Just because things have changed…it doesn’t mean you’re unloved.”

“Not even my father noticed I was gone longer than usual,” he whispered. “Why are you always here for me, Bridgette? We got off to such a rocky start.”

“We did,” agreed Bridgette, tilting his head up slightly and pressing their foreheads together. “But look how far we’ve come. You don’t have to be alone anymore.” She closed her eyes. “You can open up to me too.”

With that, Felix broke down, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his muffled sobs filling the otherwise peaceful garden. She hummed softly in turn, stroking the small of his back and running her fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said softly. “I’ll always be here for you. If no one else, then me. You’re never alone, Felix.”

Sweet Home Sioux Falls Pt 4: Drunks Say the Darndest Things

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Reader x OC

Words: 7200ish (so much drama in one part)

Warnings: Manipulative Relationship, Swearing, Drinking, Fighting (More under the cut by the tags- don’t want to spoil!)

Summary: (Very loosely based off of Sweet Home Alabama) Years after you left your old life to start a new and “better” one in New York City, your now-fiance decides that it’s time to meet your father, Bobby Singer, which unfortunately avalanches into him meeting all your friends, family, and your not-so-ex-husband Dean Winchester.

A/N: Remember, guys, the timeline is all out of wack. Basically everyone’s alive and Dean never went to Purgatory. Also, the reader’s current relationship is based off of a manipulative relationship I was in. The attitude and thoughts the reader has after she fights with Patrick? Yeah, that’s not healthy. So if you can relate to her relationship, please please please step back and analyze yours. It may not be as happy and healthy as you think. Always here to talk, listen, and share my experience if anyone needs to hear it <3 Feedback is, as always, much appreciated!

Masterlist

x

You slammed the door to Patrick’s Prius shut and stared at the bar in front of you. The familiar rotting wood and crooked “Roadhouse” sign stared down at you almost menacingly. Nothing like standing face-to-face with a past you vowed to leave behind.

This was where you had your first beer, hung up your first hunting souvenir, and even where you held your wedding reception. How romantic.

You could almost clearly remember Dean kicking down the front door, both of you hammered and your dress slightly ripped from your groom being unable to keep his hands off you. You remember stumbling into Sam and him telling you he’s so glad he got the chance to call you his sister before everything went down. The night was full of cheerful somber, as everyone drank to ignore the fact that Sam was planning to fall headfirst into Hell’s pit in just a couple of days.

Sam had forced you and Dean to get hitched before his fated sacrifice arrived, begging to let him witness it and just have one last day with his family before it all ended for him.

After the day he fell into the pit, you and Dean drank yourself to the floor for months until finally setting up the apple pie life Sam had made you two promise to pursue. The civilian lifestyle only lasted half a year or so, ending right when a soulless Sam came strolling up to your doorstep.

Then you fought for his soul, Castiel betrayed the three of you, Leviathans poured into Earth, Sam went crazy, Castiel returned, the mother of monsters came to earth, you became…

Before you could think back to what changed you and Dean forever, a ring from your cellphone startled you from your thoughts. 

You quickly pulled it from your pocket and smiled at your fiancé’s name lighting up your phone. You turned away from the inevitable confrontation in the bar and  pressed the answer button.

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florchis  asked:

If you are still taking prompts: FS + 068: "We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years"? Thank you!

AN ~ thank you so much for your consistent love, support and patience! you’re amazing @florchis and it’s an absolute pleasure to write for you! I hope you, and the rest of this poor troubled fandom, enjoy this fluff set ~10 years in the future.

FitzSimmons, Bus Kids, Rated G/light T for a little bit of mild innuendo.

Read on AO3 

-

“You’re working late, ma’am,” Crawford remarked, amused but not surprised. Doctor Simmons looked over at her with a similar expression.

“So are you,” she pointed out. Crawford smirked.

“Well, I don’t have an incredibly attractive and romantic husband waiting at home for me.”

Doctor Simmons blinked at her. Crawford’s smirk drooped a little.

“Sorry, I just meant - You aren’t going home? I’d have thought you and Doctor Fitz would have something special planned. It’s your anniversary today, isn’t it?”

Doctor Simmons laughed.

“Oh! No. That’s next week. And I can assure you, unless the sky is falling down I will be out of here by 5:01 on that day.”

“So what are the chances of that?” Crawford teased, and Doctor Simmons grinned.

“About fifty-fifty I’d imagine.”

“That sounds about right,” Crawford agreed. “Well, sky falling in or no I think I have to get home before my eyes droop closed on the road. Happy anniversary for next week, I guess!”

“Thanks! But, um, where did you hear that it was today? Just out of interest?”

“Oh, the Director mentioned it. You’d think she’d be right, she’s pretty close to you guys, isn’t she?” Crawford shrugged. “Guess I could have misheard.”

“Possibly,” Doctor Simmons agreed. “Although you’re right, she is close to us… and it is possible that she and my husband dearest are planning something. You may have given me a foot-up in an epic romance battle for the ages, Doctor Crawford.”

How that woman’s cogs could still be turning with such fervor at this hour, after such a long day, both inspired and baffled Agent Crawford. She smiled and nodded, her eagerness to get home outweighing her desire to unfold the leads of the trail she had apparently just set her boss on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor,” Doctor Simmons insisted. “Good work today.”

Crawford left gratefully and Jemma Simmons cut her workday off just as it was going on ten hours, and snuck up to the Director’s office. It wasn’t really sneaking, of course; the night staff were about, and she had plenty of forms of permission to be going up there, but there was always something a little secretive and exciting about visiting Daisy’s swanky office for private reasons. And she was sure that Daisy would still be there – for work, or for helping Fitz plan out the details of a beautiful and intimate evening, she would be there.

Jemma was almost disappointed when she found out it was work. Daisy let her in nonetheless.

“What can I do ya for?” Daisy offered. “Wine?”

“No thanks, I’m driving,” Jemma waved her off. “And I probably will head off soon, but ah, Crawford told me you said it was mine and Fitz’s anniversary today?”

“Oh yeah. I ran into her after the newbies’ fitness exams. Did she wish you happy anniversary from me.”

“She did,” Jemma said. “I just thought it was a little weird, that’s all. We’re going to see each other before next week, after all.”

“What does next week have to do with anything?”

Jemma frowned.

“Our anniversary. It’s next week.”

“No, it’s today.”

“No…it’s next week. Friday.”

Daisy shook her head.

“Babes. You got married on May 21st. I remember. That date is like. Burned into my brain forever.”

Jemma scoffed, but Daisy did not waver. Frown deepening, Jemma pulled her phone out of her pocket and put it on speaker.

“Jemma?” Fitz answered.

“Fitz,” Jemma greeted. “Are you at home?”

Yeah, why?”  

“What are you doing?”

“Am I on speaker?”  

Daisy bit her lip and Jemma glared at her, and answered: “Yes.”

“Making dinner,” Fitz said – truthfully, probably, given the sound of crackling and bubbling in the background. “Why? Are you not coming home?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” Jemma explained, “just trying to get something settled. Our anniversary… it’s next Friday, right?”

“Yeah. 28th.”  

“Funny thing, Daisy swears it’s today.”

“Well, she’s wrong. It’s always been the 28th.”  

“Do you want to bet on that, Mr Fitz?” Daisy challenged. While Fitz and Jemma had been talking, she had been searching her photos and pulled one down from the wall of the moment after Fitz and Jemma’s first kiss as a married couple. Sunlight and confetti whirled around them and they were smiling at each other, and on the back, Jemma’s own hand had written 21st May 2018.

Fitz, of course, could not see this though, and so he accepted Daisy’s bet.

“Sure, bring it on,” he challenged. “2019, Seychelles. 2020, Paris. Then there was the year I built that bloody armchair, remember that? When was that? Ooh, 2021 we went a few days early to see the lunar eclipse. 2022 – we – hang on –“

On the other end of the line, the phone crinkled and rustled with the sound of rapidly turning pages. Then a pause. Then turned back.

“Have you got a photo album out?” Daisy checked.

“Don’t you?” Fitz challenged. Daisy shrugged. Touché.

Hang on,” Fitz repeated. “I just pulled out our wedding one. Jemma, she’s right. It’s here in gigantic letters – look – one of us must have learnt calligraphy just to write this.”

Jemma’s phone buzzed, and a photograph came through of one of the scrapbook decorations, which read: 21st May 2018 in a larger, more elaborate font than on the photograph, but Jemma recognised her own hand. Still, her jaw dropped a little.

“How bizarre,” she remarked. “Why would we move it like that? Did something bad happen on the 21st?”

“I mean, probably,” Daisy remarked. “But bad things happen every other day around here, and if it was that traumatic, it probably would have come to mind.”

“Perhaps it was just more convenient that way. Can’t imagine why, now.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Fitz put in. Jemma crooned silently and Daisy pretended to gag.

“Never change, you cheesy ass,” she praised him fondly. “Besides, it’s not like the date really matters, does it? Maybe May 28th is the date you two got your Hogwarts letters, or the day you first kissed, or the day you finally got the ring fitted. Maybe Fitz just got super excited and decided to have a one-week anniversary and you stuck with it!”

“Oh, ‘Fitz’ got excited did he?”  

“Well, you did,” Jemma insisted. “Which…made for a very entertaining night for me.”

“And that’s where I’m going to pull the plug on this conversation,” Daisy interrupted. “But I am going to send your wife home to you very soon, Fitz, so if you want to take advantage of finding out you have two anniversary dates now, might I suggest some candles?”

Our last ‘A’ reveal was (awful, but that’s besides the point) all about the DiLaurentis family. All about their secrets.

So I am really starting to feel that this 'A’ reveal is going to be all about the Hastings’.

Yes, Spencer’s parentage is most certainly tangled up with the DiLaurentis family, but overall this season it’s more of a Hastings saga than a tale of the DiLaurentis drama.

I would imagine that we will get to the root of the Hatfield and McCoys style feud between the families, but I feel like maybe our chapter is kind of closing on DiLaurentis secrets? After 6 seasons of surprise family members, and everything revolving around their family… it’s the Hastings’ turn now.

Like AD is clearly going to be mixed up in both families’ feud, but perhaps ultimately this problem would come slightly more from the Hastings side.

Charlotte is a Drake, and since we don’t yet know who her dad is, she’s still more of a DiLaurentis secret. And Mary is a DiLaurentis secret since she’s Jessica’s sister. But given the way this season seems to be focusing harder on the Hastings, I think AD will be their secret to reveal.

It’s feeling more and more like a Spencer twin is coming. Not necessarily as AD, but at least as AD’s motive.

Normal Horoscope

Aries: The stars say you are lost. That’s okay! Most people are.

Taurus: it’s surprising how much happiness a little fried dough can bring us. Shame it dosen’t work that way for people.

Gemini: Cause a scene at your local McDonalds and then cause a second scene by apologizing dramatically. You’ll feel better.

Cancer: The stars show me you. You lie there, face illuminated by a rectangle of dull light. Get some rest. You need it.

Leo: We can only hate what we see in ourselves. Consider that you may be full of mosquitoes.

Virgo: The stars speak of you in hushed whispers so I can’t hear, but generally they sound encouraging.

Libra: The indecision you feel can be alleviated by eating an entire sleeve of fig newtons while staring at your kitchen wall.

Scorpio: Pallid, grey things stalk just outside your vision, feeding on all the things youve forgotten.

Saggatarius: Nothing that beckons has ever turned out to be good. Good things dont need to beckon.

Capricorn: They blog about you.

Aquarius: Show your contempt for the concept of money by beating a cop with another cop.

Pisces: Come now, you’re more clever than meta-humor. Or perhaps you just don’t know yourself too well? Something to think about, regardless.

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Originally posted by imaginingbucky

Summary: Chapter 3 of Trope-tastic ~ Bucky Barnes + 5. Person A and Person B have to huddle together to keep warm in the cold


It was the mystery that drew Y/N in. Bucky Barnes was an enigma wrapped up in an impenetrable emotional wall. The super soldier he had seen so much, and held so much guilt inside.

He was quiet, and apart from the occasional greeting when Y/N would smile at him in passing, Bucky barely said a word to the SHIELD scientist. Nonetheless, she still made strides to befriend him, hoping that somehow she could learn more about Bucky.

Perhaps that was why he requested that she come with him on the mission. He knew that she didn’t want to know the Winter Soldier, she wanted to know Bucky Barnes. The man who had gone away a long time ago and was struggling to come back again.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, wanting his friend’s first field mission back in Russia to go as smoothly as possible. The blonde captain didn’t know Bucky had even met Y/N in the first place.

“I’m sure. Besides, it’s a simple mission, we’ll be in and out in no time.” Bucky said with a shrug, hoping that his words were true.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Steve agreed, getting up and going to brief Y/N on the mission.

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Random thoughts about Call the Midwife Series 6

I can’t believe that it’s only 8 weeks ago that we got to meet Sister Ursula and were aghast at her taking the TV away.  It feels like forever, and yet I also have no idea what I’m going to do with my Sunday nights until Christmas. (Who am I kidding? - writing here I come!)


Anyhoo - here are some random thoughts about our girls overall in the series.  It’s quite long so I’ll put in a break


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Hm… I’m actually debating whether or not to make a post discussing why I’m both infatuated with the ending while also interpreting / needing to interpret it as Seto being able to return. The problem is doing so directly challenges the other interpretation, and I don’t want to be a tyrant over what people draw happiness from. I sincerely feel people have a right to take away whatever they wish from fiction. I’d like a discussion, not “””discourse””“.

Also, I give Takahashi a giant A+ for crafting such an elegantly debatable ending.

I guess you can consider the above a sort of disclaimer. I have no intention of dictating the interpretations or emotions other fans carry, whether of the characters or the film. Everybody has reasons for why they feel as they do, and they’re absolutely entitled to those feelings. These are simply my own thoughts. I apologize if it seems dismissive. (Yes, I take this all far too seriously. What else is new?)

The end of the film can be interpreted a dozen different ways and as I’ve watched it be discussed up and down by various people, it’s apparent just how meticulously crafted the finale actually is. It was designed to stir speculation, and it’s achieved that goal beautifully. What’s aesthetic, what’s metaphorical, what’s literal?

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ideas for a (very very sad, read ahead at your own risk) non-magical/maybe modern newt/credence AU floating around in my head: 

- credence is gay. he’s had the misfortune, however, of being adopted by vicious anti-lgbt “activist” mary lou, who is an enthusiastic fan of “pray the gay away” rhetoric and beats him whenever he so much as looks at a boy.

- graves is an older man who grooms credence with faux-kind words and promises that he’ll take credence away to live with him one day – just as long as credence gives him what he wants.

- newt is still a zoologist – but he’s also a happily bisexual lgbt rights activist!

- they meet the day credence finds out that graves has been lying to him, using him, and never intended for them to have a life together at all. credence can’t take it; he snaps, storms out into the street in a flurry of uncontrollable emotion, rage and despair. 

- newt spots him just as the police begin to surround him. credence is violent, lost, and standing on the edge of a bridge. nobody wants to approach him. the police are armed. 

- newt puts himself in between them and credence, and promises he can talk this boy down. just let him try, he says. he’s good at calming people down (what he means is, he’s good at calming animals down, but he reckons there can’t be too much difference, right? after all, people are animals too).

- it’s a delicate process, but newt manages. he speaks to credence in kind, gentle words; he smiles at him, but always takes him seriously. slowly, carefully, he works out credence’s reasons. newt tells him that he likes boys, too, that his parents weren’t so happy about it either. but that it’s alright – and that he isn’t alone. tells him that if he’d like to just come down, perhaps they could talk some more, somewhere a little quieter, and a little more comfortable. perhaps over a cup of tea. 

- credence comes down. 

- newt takes him somewhere quiet. maybe a library – he doesn’t want credence to feel trapped by taking him home, but somewhere like a café would be too public. 

- they talk. or rather, newt talks, a lot, and credence listens and can’t quite believe what he’s hearing.

- newt tells him about the time he first realised he was bi. about how scared he’d been. tells him how his parents had never outright said he wasn’t welcome anymore after he came out, but how he’d felt it nonetheless, and how much it had broken his heart to leave them. tells him that despite that, he doesn’t regret coming out – tells him about his activist work, about the friends he has now. but not just about that; newt tells credence about his other work, too, about the zoos he’s worked in and the creatures he’s studied and the book he’s working on that’s almost finished, he’s sure of it. 

- they talk until the sun starts to set. newt mentions that it’s getting late – that’s when credence tells him that he can’t go home. not now. not ever again. newt suggests, gently, that he has a spare room at his place. but only if credence wants. 

- credence does.

"The Witch Mothers"

Eulalia is a clever woman. She has never been beautiful, brave, talented, nor even particularly kind, but she has always been clever.

She has talked her way out from under her father’s heavy hand many a time, she has kept their feeble farm afloat with naught but her words and a cartful of meagre crops. Eulalia’s silver tongue can sell a bottle of dirt to a pauper, and she has done so when in a pinch, but in a poor town surrounded by poor people there is only so much money to be swindled.

Eulalia wants nothing more than to leave, travel far away to the towns by the sea, where the buildings are brightly coloured, the air is salty and food is plenty. Eulalia has saved up all her money to go, hidden every coin she has under the floor boards, but it has all been for naught.

For she has fallen in love with a stable boy and is now with child. The stable boy is as unhappy with his home as she, and he would gladly steal away two horses so they may elope in the night, but travelling is hard, and travelling while pregnant far too dangerous. Her mother had passed during birth and Eulalia fears the same fate will fall upon her, it can not be risked.

However, her father will be furious if he finds out, a child out of wedlock, what would people say? His beatings will double, if not triple, and Eulalia’s silver tongue would likely do nothing to quell such a rage.

Thoughts race through Eulalia’s clever head.

She considers poisonous herbs to force her to lose the child, it would be a mercy to both of them, she does not want to bring them into a world as unloving as the one she had been born into, and she knows she would resent the child for the difficulties it was causing her, regardless of it not truly being to blame. Though the herbs are risky, they are far too likely to kill her as well as the child and so she abandons the idea.

She could kill her father and frame it as an accident, but the risk of being found out is too great, her hatred of the man is well known and she would be suspected immediately, and though her lover may forgive her were she to do the deed herself he would never aid her in such a dangerous act.

She knows that she will have to act quickly, before her father notices her belly grow, she needs a way to have him killed without being suspected herself, she needs someone to raise her child in her stead, and she needs to ensure that she will even make it through the birth alive.

She needs a witch.

Eulalia knows of four witches that live in the nearby woods, each would gladly take her child, but there are risks. There are many different reasons for a witch to want a child, some of those reasons darker than others, if Eulalia is to sell her child to a witch she will get only one favour in return and her child may be eaten or sacrificed.

Asking to have her father killed would mean nothing if she is to die in childbirth, and wishing to survive childbirth will be useless if her father were to beat her to death afterwards. If only she could have more than one favour, but she would need more than one child… or perhaps, more than one witch. A plan comes to Eulalia’s mind, Eulalia’s clever, clever mind and that very night she shares her clever thoughts with her beloved stable boy.

While her father is out hunting the next morning the young woman gathers up her skirts and hikes into the woods alone, she assures her lover that she will be safe and her journey will be short, she does not need to know where she is going. You do not find the witch you seek, the witch will always find you.

Verano, the Witch of Summer, is the first.

“What is it you want, girl?” Verano asks of her in a parched, dry voice that crackles like fire.

“I wish to make a trade.” says Eulalia, opening her satchel. “I wish for good health through pregnancy and a quick recovery after birth. I will trade you one of four things in return.” Eulalia holds out a small cracked mug, a ragged home-sewn shawl and a broken mirror.

The witch ignores the trinkets, eyeing only the woman’s belly, “What is the fourth?”

Eulalia lays a hand across her midsection, “My first born child, though I request that you only choose your payment the day after the child has been born, you may come and consider all gifts equally and leave with the one you prefer over the others.” Eulalia plays the part of the desperate mother clinging to hope and the witch’s mercy, she plays it well.

Verano smirks, “I will grant your wish and agree to your terms, but I assure you the child will be the one I choose.”

Eulalia grasps her belly tightly, “We will see, Summer Witch.”

The next day Eulalia once again makes her way into the forest, her satchel of trinkets on her shoulder, this time, she seeks the Autumn Witch.

“What is it that you desire, child?” Otoño asks of her with a voice as fragile and delicate as the crisp leaves underfoot.

“I wish good fortune upon myself and my lover, we are to travel soon and I would feel safer knowing that we won’t encounter any dangers upon the road.” Eulalia makes her offer and the Autumn Witch agrees to the terms.

The next day Eulalia seeks the Witch of Winter.

“You are brave to come out here all alone young one, what is it you wish to gain from this journey?” Invierno asks, her words harsh and cold like an icy wind.

“I wish for my father’s death, an accident that cannot be blamed on myself,” Eulalia gives the Winter Witch the same offer as the witch before, Invierno agrees gleefully and promises her father a perfectly accidental demise.

The next day Eulalia enters the forest to meet with the last witch.

“My what a scrumptious young thing I’ve found wandering my woods alone,” says the sickly, sweet honeyed voice of the Witch of Spring. “What can I do for you my pet?”

“I wish for a pouch of endless coins.” Eulalia says quickly before offering her gifts and terms. Primavera smiles hungrily, promising that when Eulalia gets home her new magical purse will be waiting. She travels home quickly and hides it under the floorboards.

Only a week later Eulalia is approached by a friend of her father with news of his death.

“A bear caught us unaware in the woods. I don’t understand what it was doing here so far from the mountains but…”

Eulalia feigns shock and surprise, the hunter assures her that the bear has been killed and will not bring harm to any others of the village, “The beast will be skinned, I will bring you it’s fur personally.”

She thanks him tearfully, false sobs hiding her laughter. Her father will never lay a hand upon her again.

As Eulalia’s belly grows so too does her solitude, she fakes her grief so well that nobody questions when she locks herself away, sending the sweet, caring stable boy to do her chores and fetch goods from the market. The villagers say she is lucky to have such a decent young man to look after her, Eulalia and her father may have quarrelled often, but she is young and fragile and could not possibly cope on her own without the generous help of the local stable boy. Everyone hopes to see them marry when her grief finally passes.

The day of birth comes, she secretly delivers the child at home, quickly and with very little difficulty as the Witch of Summer promised. Eulalia feeds the child as her lover prepares their meagre belongings, packing away the magic coin purse and sneaking a pair of horses from the town stables. Before they leave she lays her sleeping child on the bearskin alongside the cracked mug, ratty shawl and broken mirror. She gives the little girl a tender kiss on her small forehead.

“Thank you.” Eulalia whispers before she and the stable boy disappear into the darkness of the early morn, never to be heard from again.

The witches are not impressed be the arrangement.

“We have been tricked!” says Invierno, “The wench has promised the child to all of us! She must be punished!”

“We were not promised the child,” Otoño softly reminds her, “we were promised one of four things, there is a gift here for each of us, she has broken no rules.”

“She knew we would all want the child.” states Verano, “But she has left us to fight for it ourselves, she knows she has kept her side of the bargain. We have no power over her.”

“I say we hunt her down and slit her throat for this treachery!” Primavera hisses. “And we can split the child down the middle and across the belly, we can each take a piece!”

“If you dare harm the child I will kill you,” threatens Invierno. “I am in need of a slave, I have no use for child pieces.”

“And should you harm the mother the fates will send swift punishment,” warns Otoño, “despite her clear devious intent, she HAS kept her word. We agreed to choose a gift, without the mother or those of her blood here to mediate the choice for who may have the child the choice lands on our shoulders.”

“The child is of her blood.” says Verano, “Per the rules, the child must choose who of us is to take her.”

“But the child’s word is not binding until she comes of age!” Primavera snips. “We would have to wait sixteen years!”

“We are bound by the rule of the fates Primavera.” Otoño says quietly. “We have little choice in the matter. Unless three of us can agree to give up their claim to the child, we must wait.”

No witch is willing to give up her claim, so it is agreed that Otoño will take the child until autumn’s end, at which point she will pass her along to Invierno for the winter. Primavera will take her for the spring and come summer hand her off to Verano, after which the cycle will begin anew until the sixteen years are up and the girl makes her choice.

Otoño is the one who gifts the child with the name Nina. She raises the girl as she would her own babe, with love and care and compassion. She is sad to pass the child along and yearns for her return in the next year.

Invierno spends little time with Nina, preferring to swaddle the little girl up in rags and leave her until she is to be fed or changed. She has no interest in babies and only speaks to Nina when needing an ear to complain about a spell gone awry or a bothersome forest spirit. She is not sad to see the girl disappear from her home for the next three seasons, she will no longer have to waste her healing potions on Nina’s teething gums.

Primavera has many uses for the child. Though she cannot eat her flesh as she would like, the hair and fingernails of a babe can be used in many spells for youth and beauty. Nina is pampered with herbal creams and lotions, anything to help her soft hair and tiny nails grow quickly, although she is occasionally left with sore fingers and toes when the witch carelessly cuts too close to flesh.

Verano prefers to spend her three months teaching Nina to speak, familiarising her with the words for items around the hut, or animals outside the windows. If the girl is to become her apprentice she will need to know how to see and hear and touch the world around her. ‘Verano’ is Nina’s first word.

The other witches take it very personally.

By the time Nina returns to the Summer Witch she is speaking many new words and phrases.

“Tono mama best.” Nina says after her second autumn.

“Inveeya strong mama!” she cries after her second winter.

“Preemvee pretty mama!” she proclaims after her second Spring.

“VERANO!” Nina screams in excitement any time she eyes a puddle of mud.

Verano knows perfectly well that this is not an accident. She teaches Nina that food is for throwing if fed by anything other than a golden spoon, knowing full well she is the only one to own such a thing. She teaches Nina that long hair is always for pulling, knowing she is safe with her own short fiery locks out of the child’s reach.

Otoño retaliates by teaching Nina to walk. The others are unprepared and swiftly learn to keep their poisonous ingredients up on high shelves. Invierno creates a cage of wood and ice to keep the child confined. Primavera inadvertently teaches Nina some very very inappropriate new words when catching her with a sprig of Oleander in her mouth, once the danger has passed she teaches her a plethora of new ones just for fun.

After being savagely cussed for not allowing Nina to stay up after bedtime, Verano pleads for a truce.

As the years pass Nina learns the ways of her witch mothers, she watches and questions and helps when she is asked.

From Verano Nina learns the power of the Sun, of fire and heat and the magic born within the ashes of the hearth, how it may be used for health and healing and creation. She learns to cure wounds and ailments, and conjure constructs of shadow and ash. She learns that Verano has the warmest kisses of all her witch mothers, a burning touch upon her forehead will linger the night through, keeping the monsters in the darkness at bay.

From Otoño Nina learns the power of the Seer, of prophecies and fortunes that can guide and be guided, the nature of change and how fate can never truly be controlled, but swayed. She learns to see the signs of misfortune upon the roads she travels and how to walk between the ill omens that lay before her. She learns that Otoño’s gentle embrace can cast away all the shadows of sadness and fear, even without the aid of spells and magic.

From Invierno Nina learns the power of the Beasts, of creatures in the night who hunt and howl, she learns the ways of the goblins and gnomes, of the merfolk below the ocean’s depths and the wolfbeings who prowl the woods. She learns of survival in the woods, the home of these creatures, how to ward them away from her food and her fire, how to fight when still they approach, uninvited. She learns of Invierno’s love of games, how her cool eyes blaze with the fire of competition and her spirit soars when they race for the sake of pure fun.

From Primavera Nina learns the power of Beauty, of the secret poisons that hide within the prettiest of flowers, of the mesmerising nature of a sweet voice and a charming face. She learns the nature of illusions, distraction and misdirection, gentle touches and swift fingers, silver words that confound and bind the unsuspecting. She learns of Primavera’s self doubt, that the days her hands are busiest are the days her thoughts are cluttered, Nina finds that kind, encouraging words can weave a special magic of their own at times like these.

The witches, in turn, learn many things about their young ward.

Verano learns that Nina likes to sing while doing chores, she has little talent and her songs are often nonsense, but the witch enjoys them nonetheless, and when Nina cannot be found for supper it is often the fault of the nearby river, it’s enticing cool waters tempt her so on the hottest of days and she will succumb each and every time without fail.

Otoño learns that Nina enjoys her tea with a heaping dose of honey, she has a tongue for sweets and a fondness for cooking, if left alone for an afternoon the witch will find her home smelling positively delectable upon her return. On their regular outings Nina will leap upon any leaf pile deemed large enough to soften her fall and quite often forgets her scarf when it is cold, Otoño suspects she does so on purpose simply to bother her.

Invierno learns that Nina is tenacious, she often does not pick up on lessons right away, but her determination will carry her through any task no matter how difficult it may be. She is competitive, and will always strive to hunt a bigger kill, collect more herbs, cut down the bigger tree, to Nina everything is a challenge to be surpassed, she and Invierno have this in common.

Primavera learns that Nina cannot keep her fingers out of her hair, she fiddles with her dark curls relentlessly if she has little else to do to keep her hands busy, she will even play with the silky tendrils of the witch’s hair if allowed, braiding and twisting the luscious strands into intricate designs atop her head. She also chews the ragged ends of her always filthy nails to Primavera’s unrivalled disgust.

Nina is taught by all the witches that the most sacred magic comes from the world around them, for it is from the world that the witches learn their craft. Nina did not learn from the world, and so as far as she is concerned the most sacred of all magics come from the hearts of her very own mothers.

Nina loves her mothers, she loves them all unconditionally, she loves them all equally. The witches know this well, and so when the day of their beloved daughter’s sixteenth year comes the witches gather, they gather with food and gifts and games. They gather each with the same Question balanced atop their lips.

'Who will you choose?’

The Question sits throughout the games, it sits throughout their meal, it sit throughout the giving of gifts. It sits and sits and sits on the lips of each witch as they steal secret glances to one another, waiting to see who will be the one to let it tumble forth.

The day passes, Nina and the witches talk far into the night, moving into Otoño’s warm hut when the chill of darkness sets in. The witches know that they cannot part ways before the Question is asked for they must all be present when Nina is to make her choice, but still not a one of the four can bring herself to say it aloud. Nina chatters happily away, knowing nothing of her mothers’ plight, she has never had all of them together for an entire night, and she has never seen them get along so well. She wishes that they would never leave, she wishes this night would never end.

Morning comes and Invierno offers her aid in the small kitchen as Nina begins cooking breakfast. “How do you get anything done in a kitchen so small?” the Winter Witch asks. “I shall not leave this home until we can build one of a decent size!”

Verano offers to fetch water from the well so that they may bathe, “How can you possibly travel so far for clean water each day?” the Summer Witch asks upon her return, “I will not leave this home until I have dug you a brand new well right upon your doorstep!”

Primavera does not offer her help with the morning’s chores, opting instead to comment snidely on Otoño’s pathetic attempt at a garden. “How could you possibly grow anything through all these weeds? I refuse to leave this home until this garden is worthy of my gaze!”

Otoño makes no complaints of her three guests, and Nina could not possibly feel any more delighted about their stay. When the kitchen is finished and winter inevitably arrives Nina, for the first time in her life, does not travel to Invierno’s home.

“The weather is too cold to travel such a distance,” says the Winter Witch, “we must stay here until the spring.”

Nina knows the both of them have travelled in far worse conditions just for sport, but she says nothing, nor does she argue when Primavera weaves her own excuses for staying throughout the spring.

“If this garden is to have any chance I must remain to tend it through the spring,” she insists. “It has yet to meet my standards and I simply refuse to leave until it does!”

Verano does not even mention her old house when summer’s heat presses down upon them, she speaks only of the new river path she has spent the past seasons digging by the Autumn Witch’s home.

“With luck we shall be swimming again before summer’s end!”

The day of Nina’s seventeenth birthday arrives in the coming autumn, and the witches remember a Question that had never been asked. They suddenly realise, however, that such a Question no longer sits heavy upon their lips.

Another year passes, and another, and another. Otoño’s once small and shabby hut becomes a large den of life and noise, of bickering and laughter. The witches who once saw one another so rarely now break bread at a single table each night, along with the young woman who brought them all together when she was just a babe.

The witches can no longer imagine a world in which they do not live alongside one another, the thought of breaking their family apart hurts them so deeply they simply cannot fathom why they did not come together sooner.

Verano could never stand to lose the gentle kisses and tender embraces she now receives daily, Otoño could never go back to the silence that once settled upon her home, Invierno could never again survive without the talk and chatter that now sweeps away the loneliness, and Primavera could never give up the support and love and care that help to keep her ill thoughts at bay…

Though she never asks and is never told, Nina eventually discovers the truth of her birth mother, and of the choice she was to make all those years ago, for she knows that the children of witches are always the children of the unwanted. She knows there is a woman out there who did not dump her on the side of the road, nor drown her in a river, but instead promised her to four witches who would become the family that she knows and loves.

Nina will never meet the woman who birthed her, nor does she ever wish to, but on a dark night, when the wind whips through the trees like a beast through the underbrush, she whispers words to the woman who gave her away.

A long way away a woman sits peacefully by the ocean with her husband, arm in arm they watch the boats cross the beautiful waters, the woman places a hand atop her swollen belly. Her face is one of contentment.

A wild wind thrashes through the woman’s dark curls, and with it comes a voice she does not recognise.

“Thank you.”

A tear rolls down the woman’s cheek, though she does not know why. Her husband pulls her to her feet and they begin their walk home. Eulalia places her hand upon her belly once again.

She will do right by this one.

well this is finally done, I wanted to do more of the witches interacting after moving in together but the story got too long and I couldn’t find a good place to put it in, just imagine them all doing cute girlfriend things together

Evasive Maneuvers (reader x Bucky) [Accidents Happen part 3]

Well, I guess 3 is a trilogy, any more makes a series, right? And there will be more, so perhaps I should come up with a name for the series besides “Accidents Happen series”? I’m open to suggestions. :) 


Any who, here is part 3! It was a rough weekend full of family obligations and helping a friend move in the middle of the night so I’ve been up late tonight (Sunday) writing even though I work early tomorrow. Meh. I struggled a little more with this chapter. I had definitive scenes and funny/sexy lines I wanted to use but the transitions were harder. Phew. The last scene made me chuckle while I was writing it, though. Ha! Let me know what you think! :)

Tag List: @holycoldcoffee @anitavalija @you-and-bucky @imaginingbucky @writingruna

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future! 

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Evasive Maneuvers (reader x Bucky)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Steve, Natasha, most of the Avengers mentioned.

Summary: Reader and Bucky trying to interact in public and hide their secret in front of the rest of the team.

Warnings: none. Just more sexy fluff. ;)

Melt with You ( Part 2)

Part 3

Never Tear Us Apart (Part 4)

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Bucky had left an hour ago, despite much protesting from both of you and much more kissing in between him finding his clothing, dressing, and walking to the door.

“Okay, I’m going.”

Kiss.

“Really. Walking to the door. “

You follow. Kiss.

“I’m turning the door knob.” Kiss. And butt squeeze. From you.

“Hey, now!” he yelped. “I’ve got to open this door and slip out unnoticed and your hands attached to me may be found noticeable.”

You relented, one last kiss, and took a step back. He opened the door, peaked out to make sure the hallway was empty, and took another look at you with a smile.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” And he was gone.

Keep reading

howdoistormspirit  asked:

Aww... It's almost like you care about us... almost. I'm not fooled.

“Good. Don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I definitely don’t give a shit about you guys, it’s just that it seems like it’d be unfair for someone to take advantage of easy EXP like you all. At least try to find someone who can fight back, y’know? EXP shouldn’t be a measure of how many Whimsums you can slaughter. There’s no sport in that.”

*I think they kind of do care. But… honestly, it’s quite hard to tell. I’m not entirely sure, but it feels somewhat like there’s an understanding going on here…

Stronghold- Steve x Reader x Loki     Ch. 6

A huge thank you to @hymnofthevalkyries for being my Beta on this series! You are the best Momma V!

Notes/Warnings: 

-Over all: emotional and mental abuse, violence, anxiety and nightmares. There will be fluff eventually, I promise. :)

-For this chapter: I don’t think there is anything new in this chapter but let me know if I’ve missed something.

Originally posted by avengers-of-mirkwood

She took a deep, shaky breath as she tried to calm herself down. The ground shook when Thor landed outside the facility and (Y/N) sighed, knowing he would be in the room in minutes.

 Steve clenched his jaw and his eyes darted from the window to the door. They could hear Thor’s boots like boulders stomping down the hallway. He burst through the door and practically ripped it off its hinges.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I think the boys group has the better choreographers with Peta and Sharna. So they might even score higher than the girls with the judges probably going easier on the boys.

And Lindsay!! So curious to see how the dynamic is gonna be like with the guy pros choreographing, I feel like the girl pros will all work together great but the guys there could be some interesting dynamics in terms of who takes charge.

In addition to the guy pros’ dance perhaps coming together more easily, I see a lot of people saying the guys’ dance has the potential to be a lot more fun to watch which I agree with so that may help them a bunch.

Good Things Do Come To Those Who Wait

A wish has come true for this little fandom! Some thoughtful soul (Blackdog TV Archive) has uploaded “Muhammad Ali’s Greatest Hits (1979)” to YouTube in three parts. In them, we are given a few, fleeting glimpses of an adorable, smiling, laughing, (probably) thirty year-old Michael Kitchen, not in character!

The above clip comes from Part One. He’s sitting between Olympic gold medalist swimmer, David Wilkie, and then girlfriend, Joanna Lumley, who thankfully saw fit to wear a bright blue frock that evening, making it fairly easy to spot himself in the audience 😊